


left in the dark

by maybefreak



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti)
Genre: Animal Transformation, But not quite, Character Study, Neibolt House, Other, The House on 28 Neibolt Street (IT), Werewolves, werewolves are richie's worst fear
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-06
Updated: 2020-03-06
Packaged: 2021-02-28 16:33:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23040256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maybefreak/pseuds/maybefreak
Summary: His mouth suddenly felt dry as his knees gave way from under him, making him buckle and fall to the floor. He felt cool grass underneath his palms, soaking his hands and knees in dew. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up, and a piercing scream rang through the air; only afterwards did he realize that that scream had come from him.Or, Richie's experience at Neibolt, reimagined.
Kudos: 10





	left in the dark

"Eddie! Where the fuck are you?"

Richie's voice was laced with worry as he looked around, hoping he'd be seeing Eddie's annoying little self emerge from the shadows any minute now.

The door slammed shut behind Richie abruptly, so loud that it felt as though the entire room shook, and the little bit of light there was to begin with faded to darkness. No light shone in through the windows; so dark, Richie couldn't even see the frame of his glasses in front of his face. He heard Bill shouting his name frantically from outside. Richie turned on his heel and sprinted back in the direction of the door, knowing he needed to get the hell out and it needed to be now.

"Bill, c'mon, open the door!" He pleaded. He heard the knob rattling, but to no avail. Panic began setting in as he listened to Bill freak out on the other side of the door.

It was doing this, Richie realized. He was trapped in here.

The longer that Richie felt around for the knob, the more that his heart sank further down into his stomach. All he felt beneath his palm was a cold wall with its faded, yellowing wallpaper. It was as though the door had never even been there, he was really trapped. Shit. 

_Breathe, Rich, it's not real. It's not real. None of this is real._

He slowly turned around with his back pressed up to the wall, as if that would make him any safer, and felt himself blanche at what he saw next.

Richie watched as the full moon crested its highest point in the sky, way off in the distance. He looked around the room again, realizing he didn't seem to be inside anymore _at all_. Like they'd never been there, the walls of the room had vanished, leaving Richie standing out in the open. Out in the woods.

_No_.

His mouth suddenly felt dry as his knees gave way from under him, making him buckle and fall to the floor. He felt cool grass underneath his palms instead of Neilbolt's rotting floorboards, soaking his hands and knees in dew. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up, and a piercing scream rang through the air; only afterwards did he realize that that scream had come from him.

Long, pointed fangs pressed against his bottom lip and threatened to draw blood, forcing his mouth open in a horrific snarl. His breathing was ragged and pained, catching in the back of his throat briefly before escaping in the form of inhuman growls.

The next wave of pain hit Richie like a ton of bricks. His eyes already were down, leaving him no choice but to watch as his fingernails grew longer, narrower and sharper, not to mention grotesquely yellowed, as though he hadn't properly washed his hands in years. His hands themselves changed in shape, until they weren't looking quite like hands at all. He flipped one over just to make sure his eyes weren't playing tricks, and it was confirmed that they weren't.

Paw pads. He had fucking _paw pads_.

Coarse fur coated the back of his hands and made its way up his arms, which had to be the most unpleasant feeling in the world. Or so Richie thought.

Another agonizing scream ripped through him when his face began to change shape, mouth and nose both jutting out into a muzzle of sorts; not entirely animal, but most definitely not human either.

_This isn't happening,_ he repeated to himself as he squeezed his eyes shut.

_This isn't happening._

_It's not real._

Richie sobbed. Those words were becoming harder and harder to make himself believe. This wasn't supposed to be happening to him, this stuff was from movies. It wasn't real!

His claws dug into the earth as his muscles shifted and changed. Shoulders grew and broadened and his arms and legs got stronger. Tears poured from his eyes, matting down the fur that was sprouting around them.

Richie picked his head up and stared ahead of him, his eyes being met by two amber yellow ones in the midst of all the trees. They glinted, as though whatever being that owned them was grinning at him. He was being taunted.

_It's not real._

_None of it is._

_"Richie!"_

Richie's head snapped in the other direction abruptly at the call of his name, and the sound of the old door swinging open loudly on its hinges. His eyes began to water as the minimal sunlight streaming in through the windows hit them.

_The sunlight?_

Richie looked around the room; he wasn't outside, he was inside. In the Neibolt house, and it was still daytime. There weren't any trees. It wasn't grass he was kneeling on, it was old, rotting wood, which had given him about fifty splinters by that point. He'd just have to worry about that later.

He looked back at his hands, and turned them over a couple times. Front and back, front and back, they were back to just being his hands. He reached up and felt his face. Just his face, no snout or fangs or anything of the like. He went down the mental checklist and confirmed that everything which had taken place in that horrific fantasy was just that; a fantasy. A nightmare, really.

He was brought out of his thoughts when Bill knelt down beside him, putting his hands on Richie's shoulders. He turned to face him and was met by Bill's look of intense concern, the concern that only grew when he saw Richie's tear stained cheeks and bloodshot eyes. Bill took him by the arm and pulled him up, dragging him out of the room and into the hall. Richie looked around, feeling incredulous.

None of it was real. None. He'd been right all along.

Richie let thoughts of finding Eddie occupy his thoughts once again, glad to have a distraction from whatever that ordeal was. He didn't want to dwell on it, absolutely not. The fear he felt when he was alone in that bedroom was worse than any he'd ever felt before.

He could tell from Bill's face that he was just _dying_ to ask what had been so bad that it made Richie cry like that, but Richie couldn't even bring himself to speak it.

He just needed to worry about finding Eddie.

He allowed himself to shove that painful memory way down, repress it, but he wouldn't be so lucky as to entirely forget.

Not for years to come, anyway.

**Author's Note:**

> i had this idea when I was in class and i left for ten minutes to go and start it


End file.
